


sweet thing.

by torrancing



Series: Shine With Me [1]
Category: Doctor Sleep (2019), Doctor Sleep - Stephen King, Supernatural, The Shining (1980)
Genre: Affection, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But only a mugging, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Drinking, Drunk flirting, First Meetings, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Meeting in a Bar, Prequel to "to be near you.", Tenderness, actual, and a reference to a bar fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrancing/pseuds/torrancing
Summary: Dan is in California for a while, working as a local orderly and looking to piss away his paycheck on drowning out his shine. Who knew this was a college town?The one that happens to be a prequel that heavily insinuates Sam grew his hair out because of a stranger in a bar.(Can be read as a standalone fic!)
Relationships: Dan "Danny" Torrance/Sam Winchester
Series: Shine With Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987096
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	sweet thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Title From: Got You (Where I Want You) by the Flys
> 
> This is in 2003/2004 shortly before Sam meets Jess in canon. Sam is 21, Dan is 27/28. (Dan's birthday is unclear, so I cannot fixate on it being factual.)
> 
> Yeah, they actual met once almost 2 decades before they thought. Guess you're gonna have to stick around and find out how they find out.
> 
> Also, the fact that "soberer" is a word pisses me the FUCK off for some reason.
> 
> playlist made for sam and dan (I'm open to suggestions!): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4FB3F9NKNHIpxmIFaVI1Nm?si=UxrzFloMQhOimkzn-hjc_Q
> 
> ko-fi: dumbheathen  
> insta: tcnyyy  
> discord: azzie#0166  
> twitter: VO1Drent

Dan tapped the bar, having already shot back two separate servings of whiskey, two fingers each. He watched the amber fire pour into the round glass, blowing an exhale as his chest and stomach were warmed and stung. Before the bartender could pull away, he tapped the bar again, upping the ante already. The voices, two per person, were only muffled by now. He needed more, refused to slow down until he could think without someone else’s thoughts barging into his focus. He was here to piss away his paycheck, not deal with every possible thing that had nothing to do with him. Guilt pricked the lining of his stomach.

He could hear a woman wonder if she was going home with this person or that. He could hear the man next to him stress about the affair he was having. He could hear a man in the corner crying, but when he glanced over his shoulder, there was nobody there. He stared at his glass and downed it, feeling the cool trickle of jack down his throat, wiping it with the back of his hand, wincing. Dan studied his hand, his knuckles busted and scabbing over from the night before.

The throbbing in his face dulled pleasurably as the whiskey did its job, the delayed shiver of it entering his system shooting up his spine. He slid money across the counter and waited for the bartender, getting a beer and deciding to nurse it until he made his way back to his beloved drink of choice. The only voices he could currently hear were those people were choosing to expel into the room, and he was thankful. He stayed hunched where he was, cracking open the beer and sipping at it.

About an hour, four beers, and two trips to the bathroom to piss later, he was warm and slurry, and a group of college kids made their way to the booth against the wall to his left. Two of them were loud, too loud, and he regretted his choice in sitting at the very end of the bar, but instead of mustering the patience to stand and move, he got a boilermaker and watched beer splash onto the bar as the shot glass sunk to the bottom. He heaved a sigh and downed the pint of beer tinged with whiskey and belched afterward. He sat back, forgetting that he was on a stool, and almost hit the ground. Shit, the room was dark as hell. He hated college bars, but at least the dark allowed him more privacy. A personal bubble for his own, private thoughts.

Another hour passed. A woman had been trying for…. how long? to lay it on him as thick as possible, and while Dan would usually stumble his way into this strange woman’s bed, he wasn’t in the mood. Not today. He pushed her hand away when it snaked across his chest, making bile rise in his throat. He stood and planned on walking away, but he was heavy and much woozier on his feet than he’d expected to be. The woman immediately came to his aid, hands on him and trying to help him keep steady, but as he felt his fist form a frustrated ball by his side and the tension of a raised voice build in his throat, someone else helped him steady and pushed the woman’s hands away.

“Heyyy….. Tommy-” The voice said, and Dan looked up at the man it had come from, his face twisting up in confusion.

“Tommy?” He slurred, swallowing a hiccup. The man, well, boy? looked like one of the college kids, but Dan didn’t trust himself to be entirely sure. He could hear the woman pitch some argument that Dan knew had to be something defensive, laying claim over Dan when Dan had already said no. Well, he hadn’t said it, but pushing her away should have been enough.

“Sorry for stepping away earlier, you know how my mom gets when she calls. You had quite a bit while I was gone, huh, Tommy? Come have a seat,” said the boy, as smoothly and confidently as anyone telling the truth would. Dan panicked briefly. Was he that fucked up? Is a complete stranger giving him an existential identity crisis? Is his name Tommy?

Dan nodded and let the boy pull him to the booth a few feet away and his suspicions of this person having belonged to the group of college kids were confirmed. His crisis died immediately as he sat down, scooting into the seat and letting himself become more aware of his surroundings. Moving made him more drunk. Drunker? More drunk? He thought on this for a moment, not hearing the boy’s voice.

When he looked up again, the boy was grinning, dimples appearing and teeth peeking out. Dan smiled back without thinking, blinking slowly.

“I asked if you wanted another beer. I was going up there,” the boy said, and Dan thought for a moment that maybe this person was trying to get him drunk, but that died quickly as he realized, again, that he was already drunk. He ran a hand over his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear and patting the bun on the back of his head. Fuck, he needed a shower. He could feel the smell of the hospital on him.

He pulled his wallet out and a twenty.

“Get whatever you want, but I want water and…. Get- Get me something _blue_ ,” He slurred, grinning wide. Dan slid it towards him and watched him make a face and laugh. Oh, he _laughed_ , and it was _pretty_. The other man took the twenty and walked back to the bar, glancing over his shoulder at Dan, and again past his arm as he leaned against the counter. He wasn’t making eyes of any kind at him unless you counted curiosity as a kind of eye that you made for a person. Dan gave him a little wave, a cocky grin playing at his lips as his fingers wagged.

The man was back soon enough, carrying a tray. He pushed a bottle of water and a tall glass filled with ice and something that was definitely blue and a lemon slice, a boilermaker put down in front of himself. Dan eyed it and sized it up, leaning in for a sip and widening his eyes.

“Oh… That’s really good, actually-” He hummed, taking another sip while his fingers worked at the bottle.

“The guy told me it was called a ‘Sex in the Driveway’,” the man said casually, dropping his shot of whiskey into the pint of beer and tapping it against the table twice before dropping his head back and downing a majority of it in the time it took Dan to react.

He spluttered and laughed, pushing it away with a scrunch of his nose. He poked the man in the arm as if they were friends.

“Trying to tell me something, erm- Uh-” Dan struggled to remember his name, not even sure he’d even asked for it to begin with. He laughed at Dan and shook his head, foam from the beer outlining his upper lip and dotting the tip of his nose.

“Sam. And, I don’t know. I don’t think so. I just asked for something blue, just like you asked,” Sam giggled and burped into his fist, excusing himself and sighing. Dan shook his head and took a long gulp of his water.

“Dan.”

“Hm?” Sam asked as if brought out of thought.

“Dan. Not Tommy,” Dan reminded him, his smile becoming a staple for this night. He was usually an angry drunk, something the state of his hands and face could tell anybody that was interested. Sam nodded his head back in understanding.

“She was getting handsy and she hadn’t even had anything to drink,” Sam hummed, waving a bartender over and putting his empty pint on the tray, asking for another beer, “She only came in like, 10 minutes before she sat next to you.”

“What happened to your friends?”

“What?”

“Awful busy playing a white knight for a random bum in a bar, jus’ wonderin’ where those friends of yours went. The- The two loud ones and the blonde one,” Dan nodded down at the booth, leaning and propping his arms on the table comfortably as he sipped at his blue-just-like-he-asked drink. Sam’s cheeks went pink.

“Brady and Lou went home with some girls, Gary had to study for midterms, I had just started a beer,” Sam explained, and Dan wished his vision wasn’t swimming.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Dan’s drinking slowed but didn’t cease, and Sam was almost level with him within an hour and a half. Not that Dan had any concept of time then. The space that had been between where they were planted in the booth got smaller and smaller as personal space became less of an issue as the alcohol content in their blood got higher.

“Sam, Sam, Sammy,” Dan played with the name in his mouth, rolling it around like a shot, “What are you in school for?” He asked, only when Sam’s eyes lit up and he perked at the sound of his name.

“Mhm, gon’ be a lawyer, Danny,” He promised. Dan was proud of this strange boy for knowing exactly who he was and what he wanted out of life. He was only a little jealous.

“Hell, I’d trust you to get me off,” Dan stated, downing the last gulp at the bottom of his third blue drink. Sam spluttered and laughing, pushing Dan and causing him to cough and laugh without understanding what was going on.

“Did I say somethin’?”

“You’d trust me to get you _OFF_?” Sam asked loudly, causing Dan to laugh again, running a hand down his warm face.

“I meant for _murder_ , but sure, that too, idiot,” Dan slurred, met with a raised middle finger and pink cheeks from the younger man.

He swatted the hand away and wheezed softly, sipping at his water as he kept his eyes on Sam. His eyes trailed from his red cheeks to his ear to a single freckle on the shell of the said ear to the brown hair gently curling over it. He reached out without allowing himself to think first, fingers tucking and pushing into his hair there. Sam tensed and relaxed, eyeing Dan with trust in them that Dan couldn’t see.

“You’d be so pretty with your hair grown out,” Dan huffed softly, blinking slowly at the contrast of brown hair against his pale, bloodied fingers. His eyes found Sam’s again. Sam was staring at him in a way nobody had ever looked at Dan, and he pulled his hand away, clenching it and feeling all of his knuckles pop under the sudden pressure. Sam flinched at the noise and, weirdly, so did he.

“You think so?” Sam asked softly, once clumsy fingers pushing up into his own just-longer-than-short hair, “My brother had his hair grown out last time I saw him, but I’m not sure now. Looked good on him,” he reasoned to himself, barely loud enough for Dan to hear. Dan suddenly resented the music playing in the bar that, when the night started as well as most of his nights spent in bars (which was pretty much every night at this point), would help to drown others out. That was the last thing he wanted right then.

“Your hair’s long,” Sam pointed out when Dan chose to stare at him over answering. He could see his knee bouncing under the table. He processed the words for much longer than what should have been necessary.

“Yup.”

“Take it down, Dan,” Sam said plainly, and suddenly Dan could feel his eyes on him entirely. Sam was studying him. It was neither predatory nor seductive, but Dan hadn’t ever had eyes on him for anything more than the options given, so he couldn’t exactly place it. He almost wished he was sober, just so he’d know beyond a shadow of a doubt in a way that only he could know. Almost was pushing it. He felt like if he was sober around Sam, he’d loathe looking into him that way without permission. What could he say? He was a romantic. He snorted at himself before realizing he’d ignored him.

His hands went up, found the hair tie he had neatly tied into an otherwise messy bun atop his head. If he’d needed a shower for any reason other than smelling like a hospital, he would have promptly declined, but what was the harm in giving Sam what he wanted? He was surprised by the thought, taken aback by his willingness to interact with a stranger outside of violent bar fights and one-night stands that usually left him feeling more ill than the hangovers, much less wanting to give a stranger anything he wanted. Anything? He just wanted to see your hair, Dan. Get a grip.

He untied his hair and ran his hands through it several times, flipping it and mussing it lightly before flipping it back over. When his head was leaned back, he looked at Sam over his cheekbone and nose, and he knew the new look on Sam’s face. If he didn’t have an early morning and wasn’t already pushing it, he’d do something about that look. Sam’s hand found the side of Dan’s head as Dan’s had found his, fingers pushing into his scalp and running through his hair.

“Wish your face wasn’t fucked up,” Sam teased, voice only slurring a little, but Dan was too busy avoiding the realization that he was touch starved to be offended.

“Mhm, why?” he asked, voice still liquidy and low. Was his face really that bad? He couldn’t even remember what started the fight. But he won. He knows he won. He felt it in his knuckles.

“I think you’re pretty.”

A long pause.

“If you’re pretty while you look like you went three rounds with a wall and lost, you got- gotta be gorgeous when you don’t,” Sam explained, and Dan caught a laugh - a giggle - in his throat, hand lifting to hold Sam’s against the side of his head.

“Hey, I won,” He defended, lifting an eyebrow, smirking and pointing with his free hand at the younger man. His other hand never left his.

“I bet you did, Dan.”

Dan rolled his eyes and scoffed, patting Sam’s hand. He heavily - very heavily, in fact, considered blowing off work in favor of staying here with Sam, maybe going home with Sam, but definitely leaning in to kiss Sam. He didn’t get the chance to. Sam’s watch beeped several times in a row and they both made a face, the same face, at the piece of shit that had interrupted the moment. Well, maybe Sam was less angry than Dan, but the point stood.

“Shit…”

“You gotta go?” Dan asked, hoping his voice didn’t give him away, “Big time lawyer student, school’s important, y’know?”

Sam nodded a jerky, little motion, his lips pulled tight like he wanted to frown. Instead, he pulled his hand away, leaving a hole in Dan that he hadn’t expected.

“Do- I hate to-” Sam sighed, “Do you have a phone?”

Oh? Dan grinned and nodded, patting his pockets, then the other, then running his hands down the front of his jacket and frowning.

“I- I left it at my place,” He mumbled. That’s when he remembered what the fight he won was over. Some asshole bastard had tried to pick-pocket him and Dan caught him in the act. So he left his phone at his place. He had the thought of giving Sam his number, but he wasn’t even sure if his phone currently had minutes, which is what he told himself to bring comfort to the fact that he couldn’t remember his own phone number.

When he looked up at Sam to offer to take it written, Sam was gone. Dan’s stomach dropped and he furrowed his eyebrows, swallowing an all-too-heavy sigh. Before he could stand and begin tying his hair back up, Sam was back and sliding back into the booth, scrawling something on a sheet of lined notebook paper that Dan absolutely could not figure out where it had come from.

Sam folded it neatly into a square, tucking in the stray and too-long edges into each other so it was clean and small, using the tip of his short fingernail to smooth the edges down sharply. He handed it to Dan, cheeks pink again, eyes urging themselves to be downcast and bashful. Dan took the square of paper and pulled out his wallet, tucking it into one of the smaller sleeves where, perhaps, a family photo or a picture of a significant other should be. He had taken all of his important shit out of the wallet and also left those on the side table by his bed with his phone. And he wasn’t the type to carry pictures in his wallet. So the number of the only person drunk Dan had ever met and wanted to meet again would do for now.

He smiled warmly when his eyes landed on Sam again, and Sam was fidgeting with his hands in some way or another.

“You’re not obligated to call.”

“I know I’m not.”

Several beats.

“Are you going to? Call, I mean,” Sam’s eyes were hopeful and prepared for the worst. How could Dan not?

“Sure am, Sammy. Are you gonna answer?” Dan was inclined once again to lean in, but he just stared at Sam with a softness he didn’t know he had in him anymore. Maybe that’s how Sam was looking at him before. He regretted not being able to tell. Maybe he had time to figure it out, now. That square of paper gave shitfaced Dan too much hope.

“And how am I supposed to know?" Sam asked, a cheeky pull of his lips coming into play. Dan bit his lip and tapped the table.

"407 area code."

"Florida?"

"Huh?"

"You're from Florida?" Sam asked curiously as if he wasn't supposed to be leaving. Dan nodded.

"Kinda. How 'bout I tell you all about it and you can tell me where you're from next time?" Dan asked, having a solid hold on the slur that had overtaken his voice. Sam smiled and nodded, cheeks seemingly pink indefinitely. When he stood, he turned away, then turned back and leaned down just as Dan was sliding out of the booth himself. He planted a sweet one on Dan's cheek, tickling the scruff there. It was Dan's turn to blush.

He raised a hand to hold the back of Sam's neck, returning the favor and keeping it simple but letting his lips linger there for a moment before patting the back of his neck.

“Go on, lawyer boy. I’ll call,” He promised, and Sam nodded again. He was fidgeting again, fingers twiddling with themselves in front of him and Dan hoped he remembered enough about tonight to ask about that later. He hoped he remembered tonight. Sam gave him a little wave as he left and his wrist wiggled again when the wave had finished, and only when Sam was out of sight did Dan attempt to stand and fail twice.

He groaned and burped, wincing at a pain in his ribs that he must have overlooked. Welp. He took his bottle of water, put money on the table, and left. He was not smooth on his feet, nor was he getting home without a cab, which he resented more than anything else that night. He “lived” two blocks away, but if he wanted his bed, he’d have to get there and not face-plant into an alleyway. He nodded to himself and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, leaning against the wall on the outside of the bar and breathing in the night air before even taking the first puff of chemical covered tobacco. It would be dawn soon. His stomach churned and he put the cigarette out, waiting several moments for a cab to make any kind of appearance, but no luck.

Dan shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed, making the semi-conscious decision to at least try to walk home, but he was dizzy and knew he needed to throw up soon or he’d wake up in it later. The thought made his nose scrunch up. He craved sleep. He craved his bed.

He kept his head ducked in an attempt to keep to himself, but it amounted to nothing, as he was jerked to the side and pulled into an alleyway to his left. He yelped before he could register it, but he was thrown to the grown and his stomach gave another sick churn. He heard a knife click, very distinctly a knife, he knew it for sure, and he heard the shuffle of two pairs of feet.

He pulled himself to his feet and heaved a ready sigh. He cracked his knuckles and felt the skin pull open on them, warm, cold, and stinging, but before he could even properly size up the men, he was shoved to the ground and pinned there, knee on his back and rocks - or maybe glass - pushing into his chest and stomach through his shirt. He grunted and squirmed, rib screaming at him at the same time something cold was pressed to his neck. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, tossing it out away from him, assuming that was what they wanted, as he honestly couldn’t understand a single word they said, head swimming and stomach flipping.

Dan heard a dark laugh, and for a brief moment, the briefest moment his mind could muster, he could hear his father in that laugh. Distraction was swift and clean as he was flipped to his side and feet rained down on him in kicks and stomps to his stomach, hips, and legs. He curled in and shielded his face, worrying more about a concussion than a punctured organ. The men got bored of it soon enough, and he let himself uncurl after he was sure he was alone.

He rolled onto his back and sighed, a wheezing noise that he knew he’d have to have a coworker look at then subsequently treat by himself. He didn’t stay on his back long, pulling himself to his feet and soon propping a hand against the wall, emptying the contents of his stomach and wiping his mouth before stumbling away. He wished he could say he was any soberer than he was upon leaving the bar, but turns out drinking for fun is more efficient than drinking to run.

He wrapped an arm around his middle and limped home, wincing and hissing to himself every so often, glad he’d thrown his wallet and not his keys. The first chance he got, he fell into bed and that was that.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

No matter how hard Dan tried, as well as two more Friday trips to the same bar as that night, he couldn’t entirely remember Sam’s face. Or if his name was actually Sam. The name Tommy came to mind several times, but it did nothing to piece together that night. Every time he thought too hard, he got insecure and flustered, wondering if this was a path that was worth it in the end. He knew he promised to call the boy, and goddamn, he’d woken up panicky because the boy’s number was in his wallet, the wallet he fucking threw willingly to the muggers.

Dan reasoned that his lack of memory and the mugging was probably something of a sign, even though he didn’t believe in coincidences or fate. He was too old for the boy anyways, nearing thirty while Sam or Tommy or college boy - what was he in college for again? - couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than twenty. It was time to move along, anyway, as far as he was concerned, and he’d leave the random ray of light in his pitiful life behind to grow and go on his own path without Dan’s bullshit.

Sam waited weeks for that call.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! I really uhhhhh love them with every atom in my body haha.
> 
> Remember to leave a kudos and comment if you're feeling fwancy.
> 
> playlist made for sam and dan (I'm open to suggestions!): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4FB3F9NKNHIpxmIFaVI1Nm?si=UxrzFloMQhOimkzn-hjc_Q
> 
> ko-fi: dumbheathen  
> insta: tcnyyy  
> discord: azzie#0166  
> twitter: VO1Drent


End file.
